A Bitter Kiss Will Bring Him to His Knees
by Mia-Zeklos
Summary: Three Torchwood agents were most affected by Ianto Jones's presence in their life, but only one managed to stick around.


**Author's Notes: This actually originated as a simple and easy Ianto/Lisa fic that was a bit in a James Bond style and then evaluated into this monster. It's basically a character study; Ianto seen through the eyes of three different Torchwood agents. Trust the label, though; it is Jack/Ianto in the end (one of the things I like about AO3 is its flexibility with tags).**

**Anyway, the lyric breaks indicate change of characters. The first one is Lisa, the second is Gwen, and from the third one on and until the end it's all Jack, so if any of the three characters makes you uncomfortable, feel free to skip them. All the lyrics used here have been used as opening credits for a James Bond movie at some point; same goes for the title. I'm easily amused.**

**Anyway, let me know what you think because it's the first time I'm writing Lisa and I'm not sure if I got her right and I don't write Gwen all that often and that last part was just a mad idea that came to me in the spur of the moment and I'm generally unsure about the outcome of this fic.**

_See reflections on the water_

_More than darkness in the depths_

_See him surface but never a shadow_

_On the wind I feel his breath_

When Ianto woke up, the sun was shining outside, the birds were singing and King Headache had built his new castle inside the young Torchwood agent's head.

Ianto blinked several times and tried to focus his vision. He seemed to be in some side room full of cleaning supplies and Brendan from his department was asleep. On top of him. Stark naked.

Memories started coming back slowly to him. There had been an office party and, given the sheer size of Torchwood, it had been crowded even when they'd used one of their biggest halls. Ianto had made small talk and danced for a while and, just when he'd been starting to get bored, Brendan had approached him. Given Ianto's reputation, the man hadn't even tried to beat around the bush and Ianto had fully supported that course of action – hence the reason they were in a cupboard.

He tried to move Brendan off himself and that was when he realised that he was still pretty much fully dressed. He reached up to touch his neck and found that his bowtie was missing, only to spot it seconds later wrapped and tied neatly around Brendan's–

Ianto squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at them with tired fingers. "Jesus."

"My sentiment exactly." The icing of the cake – and at least fifteen cherries on top of it – came in the form of Melissa from HR staring down at them with her arms crossed over her chest, her blonde curls falling around her face. Ianto made a valiant attempt to smile and finally she relented and her expression softened. "Make yourself presentable, sweetheart," she said, ruffling his hair. "Miss Hallett wants you in her office in twenty minutes."

"Miss Hallett?" Ianto croaked and winced at the soreness of his throat. He was fairly sure that all he'd had in his stomach in the last two days had been vodka, a bit of apple juice and perhaps a bit of Brendan as well, and he had the horrible feeling that he looked like it.

"She's the new head of HR."

"If she's the same harpy as the last one, tell her that I'm busy," Ianto said, falling down on the floor and closing his eyes. "Or dead. I don't care." He suddenly realised something. "Hey, why isn't Brendan getting the same treatment?"

"Miss Hallett says you've got past offences and she's pretty sure you've encouraged him," Melissa admitted as Ianto miserably removed his colleague from his body and reclaimed his bowtie as discretely as possible.

"She doesn't even know me!"

"Oh, trust me, she does. Her predecessor gave her all the files and a special warning about you."

This day, Ianto thought ruefully, hadn't started as the best one. And things weren't looking much better for the rest of it, either.

**o.O.o**

Lisa sighed and massaged her temples lightly, trying to chase away the tension forming in her head. Why did things like this always had to happen on her first day?

She looked down at the folder in front of her. Ianto Jones, recruited three months ago by Director Hartman herself. Worked mainly in Int Ret, but did at least a dozen other things as well, one of them being the Director's PA. His previous abuses of protocol included stealing artefacts from the Archives, putting artefacts into use, planting carnivorous plants in his Head of Department's office, having 'grossly inappropriate interactions' with several alien species, trying to – and succeeding – in starting up the spaceships they've scavenged from all over Britain, and numerous notes about being found in 'compromising positions' – where today's happenings would classify as well, Lisa supposed.

She wasn't sure what to expect. Someone brash and confident who would take up the room with his presence, probably. And that was why when there was a curt knock on the door of her newly acquired office she ended up speechless.

The guy was tall and skinny, dressed in a tux with a bowtie hanging loosely on both sides of his beck. His hair was short and dark, his skin was pale and his eyes an unusually bright blue. He was also no more than twenty years old and had cheekbones that most people would commit a crime for.

"You've been looking for me?" Welsh, too. She could have guessed that from the name, but she hadn't really thought about it.

"Yes?" It was almost a question – she wanted to clarify that it was really him – as he gracefully took the chair on the other side of her desk and stared at her curiously. "Yes! You're the–"

"Cupboard guy, yes." He nodded and there was a lively, mischievous gleam in his wide blue eyes. He looked down at the file she was still clutching and then winked. "I see you've been given The List."

"The List?" Lisa repeated, intrigued. He'd said it a bit solemnly and not without a healthy amount of pride.

"Everything I've done wrong, according to the Institute," Jones said with a serious nod. "And let me assure you, Ma'am, that I have not once ignored Torchwood's rules during my off-time." Lisa snorted in amused disbelief and he seemed scandalised. "There is most definitely not a rule stopping me from shagging someone in a cupboard!"

"Well, there is now," she said with a shake of the head and wrote it down in his file. "Why are they still keeping your around here?"

"I do all the work everyone else's not clever enough to do," he explained calmly and without an ounce of modesty. Lisa wasn't sure how to react to that. It really wasn't fair, she thought, to have to deal with _this_ on her first day. Cheeky trouble-inducing bastards were for the time she was at least a week into this job.

"Does Director Hartman give you any sort of punishment about this sort of stuff," she ventured carefully when silence settled down, "or do I just scold you and let you go? Just answer the question" she said exasperatedly, raising her voice slightly when his eyes lit up at the word 'punishment'.

Jones laughed. "Just scolding, I'd say. Yvonne can't afford to suspend me."

And with that, he gave her a small, jaunty bow and left the room.

Lisa sighed as she closed his file. Something told her that this wasn't going to be the last encounter they'd have.

**o.O.o**

Ianto was insane.

She was certain of it. Yes, he was smart and charming and gorgeous – and that was perhaps the main reason she'd asked him out three weeks ago – and their first date had been amazing. He'd given her no hint about just how much of a lunatic he was.

And she should have guessed, Lisa thought angrily as she stood numbly in the large UNIT warehouse and alarms blared all around them. She should have guessed what would happen given the stories she'd read – and heard – about his escapades.

"Oops," Ianto said as he still held tightly to the strange silvery chord he'd come in to take. 'Take' being, of course, the term he'd used. Lisa much preferred 'steal'.

"Oops?" she hissed. "Get us out of here!"

Without saying a word more, Ianto smiled brightly at her, took her hand and started running.

It was ridiculous. It was childish and deadly serious at the same time because the goddamn building was going to blow up in two minutes thirty seconds and her feet hurt so much in her shoes that she felt she couldn't make a step more.

"Hang on, just a sec," she said and let go of Ianto's hand. "I can't run in these things." She reached down to unlace the strap of her silver four-inch-heels sandals and quietly mourned the loss of two hundred quid well spent. She'd only bought them last week, for God's sake.

"No!" Ianto protested and Lisa looked up at him in disbelief.

"No?" The poison in that one word alone was deadly and Ianto flinched but stood his ground.

"I can carry you if you want," he said pleadingly. "Those shoes look fantastic on you."

"You can't carry me," Lisa said, irritated. Only this maniac of a man could argue about _shoes_ in a situation like this one. "You weigh less than I do."

"Oi!"

"Come on," she groaned, resigned to her fate, and took his hand again. She's stand the shoes for a while more and they could argue outside. "Let's get going."

**o.O.o**

They both stood outside as the bomb finally activated and the whole warehouse was swallowed into a while hot ball of flames. Ianto sighed next to her.

"There was some great stuff in there; it's a shame they had to do that."

Lisa decided to not remind him the fact that UNTI had blown the place up in the first place because everything inside it was far too dangerous and focused on more pressing matters. "How can you be so calm?" When he just raised an intrigued eyebrow at her, Lisa wanted to hit him. "We nearly fucking died, Ianto!"

"Oh. Right." He looked properly chastised. "Wasn't it at least a bit fun, though?"

"Is this you doing your James Bond thing?" Lisa asked. She knew that they were probably a sight right now – in the middle of nowhere, Ianto dressed in the tux he'd been wearing the first time they'd met and her dressed in a bright red dress and those damned sandals.

Their first date had consisted of watching the newest Bond film – _Die Another Day_ – and Lisa already regretted it. It only seemed to have encouraged Ianto, and encouragement for someone who lived off adrenaline and coffee wasn't the best thing to do.

He gave her a sheepish look. "A bit. Maybe. The dress and the shoes were contributing to it."

Lisa gave a deep, long-suffering sigh.

"I don't even know why I'm wasting my time with you," she said as she went for his car. "Back to yours?"

"Sure. And, Lisa?"

"Yeah?"

"I think – because you mentioned the film, you know, I wouldn't suggest it otherwise – you'd look absolutely _fantastic_ in that orange–"

"Don't even think about it."

"Okay."

**o.O.o**

Ianto lived in a swanky apartment in Docklands, big enough for half a dozen people to live comfortably in it, and he didn't seem to think that it was that big of a deal. Everything was pristine and there wasn't a speck of dust anywhere. The furniture was mostly white, black and red and very simple and – as Ianto had called it – 'temporary'. Lisa was quite sure that he'd have liked something flashier, but he'd apparently left it all in Cardiff.

As Lisa idly wondered whether he robbed banks in his spare time – she wouldn't be surprised, really – she rummaged through his closet. There were mostly hangers with suits – all of them well-tailored and expensive-looking and, Lisa suspected, personally tailored to fit him like a glove. There was another department for the shirts, some of them in the most ridiculous colours she had ever seen. On the bottom, there was a long row of well-polished shoes and a pair of worn trainers that she knew Ianto tended to wear on his morning run. There was a tiny square left for several pairs of jeans, a pair of shorts and some t-shirts.

She wasn't exactly living with him; they just liked to spend time together and, unlike Ianto, Lisa had a flatmate, so it was better for everyone's comfort to come here instead.

"Where do you get all this from?" She asked when he wandered in with a towel wrapped around his narrow hips. His dark hair was sticking in several directions and his eyes were an even brighter blue on the dying light of the day outside. The windows were ridiculously big and the view over London was magnificent.

"The money?" Ianto asked, slipping behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Lisa nodded. "My mother. Her family was– wealthy. She willed it all to me. She died, yes," he added when she made to speak. "When I was twelve."

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he waved her off. "Torchwood was– I wanted to do something I liked _and_ something that would have made her proud."

"So you don't actually need the money you get from there?" Who would work for fun?

"Not right now, no," he said shaking his head. 'But, hey it's good to know that I'll always be secure in that department that way – I pull three salaries for everything I do – and plus, I love my job. You know. Saving the world and all that."

And he did, she knew that. Not strictly because of the world-saving but because of the adventure it provided him with.

And, as more time passed and Lisa got to know him better, she realised that he'd been homeschooled until he was fifteen and had been spoilt rotten by his mother's parents until he'd left home (which probably explained why he could be a right classist asshole sometimes), and that his sister lived in one of the cheapest neighbourhoods in Cardiff and Ianto didn't even try to hide the disdain he felt towards her and her family because of that fact, although Lisa deeply suspected that the main thing he hated her for was choosing to grow up with their father.

Lisa, having spent her high school years in a private school, knew that type of boys inside and out. He didn't much value his own life and it was all about the thrill, but he feared boredom – and Lisa was sure of it, even if he never said anything – feared imperfection, lived in the moment and liked spending his evenings either pulling stunts like the one with the UNIT warehouse or taking her to fancy restaurants or reading a good book at home. Mornings found him in Torchwood's exercise centre and, while Lisa had always appreciated his body, it was still tempting to try and break his discipline every once in a while just for the hell of it.

He'd toned down – well, everything, really, since they'd started dating, but it was the little things she hadn't seen before that worried her. Not about herself, but about him. On a superficial look, it was all perfect. He didn't drink – not often, anyway, and when he did, it was mostly whiskey – he didn't smoke, and he was an absolute health nutter.

When he ate at all. That was issue number one. Issue number two were the black cigarette-like things that he liked to smoke occasionally (he'd said he got it from a humanoid alien living in Cardiff and that he went back home every now and then to buy more) and that always left him all dizzy and dreamy. Lisa conveniently left that out when her mother asked her about her recently acquired boyfriend.

It was tiring, at times, trying to keep up with him, Lisa thought.

Tiring, but worth it.

_Golden words he will pour in your ear_

_But his lies can't disguise what you fear_

_For a golden girl knows when he's kissed her_

_It's the kiss of death from Mister Goldfinger_

Gwen had never understood what her friends saw in guys in suits. Maybe she'd never got a good taste of them because Rhys in a suit was not a sight she wanted repeated after the day they'd graduated from University, but she didn't see what the big deal was. After all, it was just clothes, right?

Wrong.

The appeal of suits, Gwen decided, was not only that when worn by the right body, they could accentuate the best places, but also in how uptight they made a person look. Because once the uptightness was ruined – by a button or two of the shirt being undone or an askew tie – the whole thing was left looking deliciously rumpled.

The discovery was a big one and yet there wasn't much of it she could share now; not when she and Ianto had gleefully shared a bottle of whiskey from Jack's drinking cabinet and had drank the entire thing. They were at Ianto's place for what was supposed to be a friendly visit on her part and it had proved to be a good idea until now, but her tongue seemed to have its own will now and she had to do everything she could to keep her thoughts from coming out of her mouth.

Ianto's eyes were closed, his head resting on the back of the couch. His hair was ruffled almost artistically and she could just bet that he formed it in an intentionally-unintentional messy hairstyle with the hair gel every morning. His tie was loosened and his waistcoat unbuttoned and his index finger was idly trailing over the edge of the glass in his hand.

Gwen realised that she'd desperately wanted to kiss him for about ten minutes now.

"You know," she blurted out instead. Maybe if she talked about anything at all, she'd put down the fire before it had even started. "I had a– thing with Owen."

"I know." There was nothing judgmental in his voice. "You stopped it, though?"

"I did," she agreed. "I did, but – I told Rhys about it once, right? And then I retconned him after that." Ianto didn't even open his eyes. "Did you know about that too?"

He shrugged. "I figured. There was Retcon missing and you looked guilty as hell the day after. It wasn't that hard."

"I feel terrible," Gwen said miserably. "He was absolutely pissed and I– I just made him forget. What does that make me?"

"Human," Ianto replied simply and Gwen gave a short, bitter laugh. "Yes, it was," he insisted, finally opening his eyes to look at her. "It was a human thing to do. Not good; not necessarily. Just human."

Silence settled between them and without really thinking about it, Gwen shifter closer on Ianto's spacious sofa and leant on his shoulder.

"I cheated on Lisa once," he said suddenly and she looked up sharply.

"With Jack?"

"No. Well, yes. But- that was before the Cybermen, while we were still working in One."

"How did it happen?" Gwen asked quietly. He'd apparently held that in for a long time.

Ianto shrugged and smiled ruefully. "How do those things always happen? Before we got together, I- well, I tended to sleep around. The whole tower knew it and Lisa said said that she wouldn't be just another notch on my bedpost. She'd been the one to ask me out and I said yes - and at the time, it was a 'why not?' decision – and she told me that as long as I'm with her, I better quit my– habbits.

"And I did. And at first, it was okay. But there was this girl in Management and, given that I was Yvonne's PA, she had to talk to me a lot. She was curious whether everyone was telling the truth about me. I was bored and not used to restricting myself. It just- happened. Nobody knew about it. We didn't even leave my office."

"What did you tell Lisa?" It was kind of comforting, Gwen thought, that even the perfectly controlled Ianto had fucked up. It was better if it wasn't just her.

"I didn't tell her. I wanted to; it was just- never the right time. And I never got the courage."

Gwen laughed quietly. "Some rotten lovers we are, Ianto Jones."

"That we are," he agreed softly. Gwen looked up at him and found him staring down at her and perhaps it would have been an absolutely innocent moment if it hadn't been for the amount of alcohol she'd consumed, but it didn't matter just then.

She'd never noticed how blue Ianto's eyes really were and how lovely the look he was giving her was. His eyelashes were long like a girl's, and they seemed to be getting closer too, until they were close enough for her to lose focus on them, and then he was kissing her.

It was nothing like Rhys; clumsy and straightforward. It was elegant and thorough and Gwen found herself reaching up to trace the delicate contours of his face, her fingers halting to admire the cheekbones she'd envied him so often for. Ianto's hand tangled in her hair so he could tilt her head further back and kiss her even deeper, which was what made Gwen come to her senses.

"This is-" she mumbled, looking away from him. "We can't. We shouldn't-"

"We shouldn't," Ianto echoed in agreement and the next thing Gwen knew was that she'd thrown herself at him again and his arms were encircling her and all her objections didn't matter anymore.

**o.O.o**

Ianto was nothing like Rhys. He was nothing like Owen, even if there were some things they had in common - like the free attitude towards sex. There was no point for comparison in the physical department, either - where Rhys and Owen were both short, Ianto's height was almost intimidating. He was broad-shouldered but thin, with long, lean muscles under his unblemished pale skin. He looked at her with a strange sort of admiration where Owen had seen her as an easy but attractive opportunity when she'd been hurt and confused and Rhys, who was almost scarily determined to marry her one day.

"Stop staring at me." Ianto's voice was hoarse with the need for sleep and Gwen looked away. It was beyond her how he always managed to tell, and they'd been doing this for almost a month already.

"Sorry," she said, trailing a finger down his chest absently. "I was just thinking. I think Tosh and Owen know."

Ianto scoffed and opened his eyes to look at her. "Of course they know. It's just the four of us. There's only so long they can be oblivious after what happened yesterday."

Gwen groaned and hid her face in one of Ianto's pillows. "I still can't believe you did that."

"It was only sensible," Ianto protested. "What else could have we done? Your shirt was torn apart."

"I had a spare one in the changing rooms," she grumbled. She didn't know why exactly she'd let Ianto get her his own spare shirt out and lend it to her - his own had been miraclously intact - but it had felt nice. She'd been swimming in it, but it had smelt like Ianto and she'd came to associate that as having an air of protection around her.

Ianto rolled on the ridiculously big bed until he was towering over her with a toothy smile brightening up his face, then he leant down to press a line of feathery kisses against her neck while Gwen purred in satisfaction and slid her hands down his hard chest appreciatively. "But you looked so much better in mine."

She let him, and relaxed in his warm embrace, trying not to think of the fact that she'd just spent the night in Ianto's flat. Rhys wouldn't say anything; she'd explained it to him in half-truths that their boss was missing and that they sometimes worked through the night. She even kept some basic stuff at Ianto's for moments such as this one.

He was right, she knew. Tosh and Owen would know. They hadn't even _tried _to hide what was going on and it had been especially obvious when they'd went home together last night.

And really, it was only several hours later when they were back in the Hub that the topic was brought up. Ianto had made some off-handed comment and had got in response from Owen, "Yeah, because you just _love_ going down on authority figures, don't you?"

Gwen wasn't even sure what had happened, really; but the last bit had brought her closer to Ianto's workstation where the team doctor was leaning against Ianto's desk. And she'd arrived just in time to see the younger man look him dead in the eye and say, "Actually, what I love is authority figures going down on _me_."

Nothing more was said on the matter.

**o.O.o  
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Having a lover while in a relationship was a new experience for Gwen. Sure, there had been Owen, but he'd mostly been a random fuck to take the pressure off at work. It was different with Ianto. He took her out to fancy restaurants and kissed her in public. She could show him off to her friends and see them throw appreciative glances at him when they parted. It wasn't about some component Rhys didn't have; it was a brand new experience and she felt a bit like living in a book about times past when real gentlemen and secret love affairs had been more interesting than anything else - it was just a bit too good.

Ianto was an incredibly attentive person, so she wasn't surprised when he immediately noticed the ring. He took her hand in his and nodded, his expression one of being vaguely impressed.

"Fancy," he conceded. "But he could've done better. That's not even a real diamond."

"He couldn't afford it," Gwen said and stepped into the offered embrace. She knew that there was a meaning lurking beneath the surface - neither of them gave a damn about the diamond - but she couldn't quite catch it.

"No," Ianto hummed. "He can't much afford you either." When there was no response but a small sigh from Gwen, he tightened his arms around her. "I don't know why you stand him."

Gwen found herself unable to find a good response to that one.

**o.O.o**

The boss had gone, Gwen had said. Dissapeared. Her team was still looking for him, but with no luck so far. Rhys felt a guilty sort of pleasure about it. No one to interrupt with emergencies now; he could take him fiancée out for a dinner without contantly worrying about her job interfering.

"Gwen." He looked up from his wine sharply when a man burst through the doors of the restaurant. As he rushed to their table, Rhys felt like crying. Dark hair, strikingly blue eyes, and really bloody tall. Did special ops purchase them from some sort of genetic ingeneers? "I've been looking for you everywhere."

"What is it?" Gwen was instantly on alert.

"We've got a– situation down the city centre,"he said, throwing Rhys a wary look. "Three situations, actually. _Big_ situations."

"Okay," Gwen laughed and stood up, putting on her jacket. Rhys stood up, unsure. "Oh, sorry. Rhys, meet Ianto. Ianto, Rhys."

The kid offered a hand. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Only nice things, I hope," Rhys tried to joke. Ianto didn't share his forced mirth.

"Mostly, yeah. Sorry for interrupting your dinner."

"World to save," Rhys said half-heartedly. "I understand."

"Sorry, Rhys," Gwen said and gave him a quick kiss. "You can pack it all for home, yeah? We can finish later."

"Sure," Rhys muttered, but they were already out of the door.

Just what he needed. A twenty-something world-saviour with the ego of Mister Wales and the looks to back it up.

Bloody brilliant.

And it was made even better when he saw the kid start running - in a three piece suit, no less - with Gwen hanging from his hand.

**o.O.o**

"You should't be doing this, you know," Ianto said to her one night, absently tracing her lips with one finger. "Coming to me. I fuck up everything that gets too close."

"I think it's a bit too late for that," Gwen retorted softly and Ianto laughed, pressing his lips against her and kissed her until she knew she was lost forever.

_If you come inside, things will not be the same_

_When you return to my eyes_

_If you think you won, you never saw me change_

_The game that er have been playing_

To say that Ianto had changed during his absence would have been both an understatement and a lie.

He_ seemed _different, sure. Confident and brash and over energetic, and absolutely delicious, but Jack could tell that he'd been like that all along and that it had been buried under the anger and loss. What was showing now, though, was a happy, lively young man who laughed into Jack's kisses and resembled the spring more than anything – rising up from the frozen darkness and into the light like a phoenix rising from the ashes – bright and almost blinding, burning the devastation away to turn it into beauty. Jack was inevitably drawn to him, like a moth to flame, and Ianto seemed to enjoy the attention, so he had no reason to stop.

Jack constantly found reasons to touch him, even if they happened to be in public, which always made Ianto adorably flustered. It was a good look on him – but then again, almost everything was – and Jack loved being the source of it.

The dates were an entirely another pleasure. He got to gaze at Ianto as the man told stories – with as much animated gestures as possible – about the aliens he'd met and the impression they'd left, and it was so incredibly charming that Jack couldn't help but lean over the table and kiss him, albeit briefly and chastely.

"What was that for?" Ianto asked with a small smile. Jack just shrugged.

"Nothing in particular. Just you."

It would have been much easier, Jack thought, if their relationship wasn't so intense. He couldn't help diving into it, given how tempting it was. It was just something so unique about Ianto; that unbreakable ice that Jack's fire always failed to melt. It was equal parts destructive and the best thing he had ever felt, so it was doubtful that he'd ever find it in himself to stop.

"You're dead weird when you want to be, did you know that?" Ianto's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. Jack grinned.

"It's just a part of my charm."

"Sure it is, Captain," Ianto said, voice repressed but amused, making it look like he was enjoying Jack's company and was humouring him at the same time. "So, uh," for a moment, he seemed unsure what to say. "What do you think of the wine?"

It was Jack's turn to be fondly amused. "Do you really care?"

"No," Ianto admitted. "I thought it was just what people did. You know, small talks. I've never been the dates sort of person. Dating - sure, but actual dates?" He shook his head and Jack laughed.

"Are we people?" He asked, leaning over the table."

"No, not really," Ianto conceded. "Would you mind more work talk?"

"Not in the slightest." In all honesty, he loved listening to Ianto talk about their work. It was what always got him really excited and his eyes always lit up in the most adorable expression of delight Jack could possibly imagine - as often as Ianto complained about Torchwood ruining his clothes and his free tieme, the Captain knew that his archivist loved his job more than anything.

Ianto gave him the blinding grin that he so rarely displayed and went into an enthusiastic description of an artifact they had found while Jack had been gone and the Captain carefully tried to chase away the feeling that was starting to raise its head inside him.

**o.O.o**

Ianto had no idea what he was doing to him, Jack thought mournfully. It was all a game to him and he loved it that way. The sex, the dates, the flirting, even the not-so-subtle eye-fucking over the table in the boardroom were entertainment to die for, but it didn't seem to go any further. And why should it? He was twenty-four. His entire life was in front of him. Why would he take anything seriously?

Jack often thought about that, especially in the nights when Ianto was asleep in his bed, curled in Jack's embrace. It was then that Jack felt that he could keep him forever there, unscarred and untouched by the dangers of the world.

Torchwood, however, was a cruel mistress and sometimes Jack was grateful for that because nothing was as good as seeing Ianto in the middle of the action. It was both heartwarming to see ow much h enjoyed himself ad terribly attractive to see him waving around guns and the general 'Britain's finest secret agent' behaviour. It was a beautiful sight, really, and one that never failed to rob him from his breath.

Ianto made him feel alive again, and he claimed the world for his own. As Torchwood got to travel around the world now and then - Switzerland, Denmark, Norway, India - he marvelled in it all and a small, masochistic part of Jack memorised each and every of those moments for later recreation; for when a copy would be needed because the original wouldn't be around any longer.

Sometimes he thought he would be better if he were to break it off - what was the point of loving someone so fleeting and self-destructive? - and then Ianto would look at him and smile and Jack would realise just how far gone he was, because he knew he wouldn't be able to live without this.

Not even for a day.

_Unlike men, the diamonds linger_

_Men are mere mortals who_

_Are not worth going to your grave for_

_I don't need love, for what good will l__o__ve do me?_

Jack was furious.

He knew he wasn't supposed to be. He should have been mourning, like Gwen was. Except for one thing - Gwen didn't know the whole story. Gwen was crying because her friend was dead. Tragic, yes, but it had been inevitable. The lifespan of Torchwood employees wasn't a big one.

But then again, Gwen hadn't really known Ianto.

And Jack had; as much as anyone had ever known him. He'd been too much on edge to see the signs yesterday, but now it was clear as day - Ianto had walked into the Thames House with the full realisation that he was going to die. He hadn't given even the smallest hint for it, and Jack hadn't even guessed.

"This isn't murder," Jack said quietly. He could hear Gwen asking something, but he didn't particularly want to hear it. He didn't want to give her a response, either; not one that would break her heart. "This is suicide."

Jack knelt down next to the body, even paler and colder in death. "And you had to take everyone else in the building with you, huh?" Jack's voice was almost too quiet for his own fears. "Going out with a bang, just like usual." He'd lived and burned and had had everything he wanted, but he'd also feared boredom and aging and all those things that growing older than twenty-five wouldn't bring. Jack had tried to tell him that not once or twice - that living would have much better consequences than getting himself killed - but Ianto did what Ianto wanted, no matter how wrong it was; no matter how many people it would hurt.

And didn't that summarise his life just perfectly?

_Love is required whenever he's hired_

_It comes just before the kill_

_One golden shot means another poor victim_

_Has come to a glittering end_

The streets of Cardiff were full of people in the warm afternoon of 19 August 2422. The date had been carefully chosen; Jack had thought a lot before coming to visit.

It was time for him to make piece with planet Earth.

He'd wandered towards the farthest corners of the galaxy for more than four centuries now and it was finally time to come back. It didn't matter tha the ghosts of the past still haunted these old battered corners and renewed buildings as long as he could finally come back withoit the pain stabbing him right through the chest.

There were cities which he associated with people, but Ianto owned the world. He'd been everywhere with Jack, every corner of the planet Jack could connect with a case or a smile or a word, and it was getting out of hand, so he'd decided to come to the heart of it all.

Cardiff. It was go big or go home, really, so he was coming home.

Jack wandered into Ianto's favourite bookstore - or, actually, the giant book centre that had replaced it - and then stopped dead. There was a hologram by the door, just in front of a bookshelf.

It was winking at him.

And it was all too familiar.

Jack reached for it tentatively and - as expected - his hand passed right through it. One of its fingers darted toward its pocket where Jack could see the outline of a semi-automatic that really didn't have a place in this century. Another saucy wink and Jack gave a small laugh of disbelief as he went past it and stared at the shelf of this month's bestseller. The cover was plain white and the man from the hologram was staring up at him, moving about on the paper - the books that were still paperback in this day and age often had their covers moving - and occassionally leaning against the title.

_Maximum Impact_, the cover read. _The third novel about the legendary alien hunter_, the summary on the back continued when Jack turned it around.

"That's the new hot thing, apparently," one of the book sellers said as she approached him. "Does more harm than good, if you ask me."

"Why's that?" Jack asked, still a bit dazedly.

"Aren't there enough bloody idiot kids who want to go out there fight with aliens?" She asked sceptically. "No reason to encourage them. God even knows whether this guy actually existed."

"Oh, he did," Jack said softly. "I'm a big fan."

Jack focused on the spine of the book now and smiled once more as he saw the title of the series.

_Ianto Jones's Adventures._


End file.
